Save Your Heart
by KaylynBB
Summary: Laylas father is constantly abusing her. Her best friend, Louis, doesnt know that's the reason shes always at his house. What will happen when he leaves to go on tour with One Direction?  rated T for language.


Hey. So this is my first One Direction fan-fiction but I love them and I thought id give it a shot. So please review and critique is so welcome!

Thanks, Kaylyn.

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><p>Im awakened by the familiar ringing of my cell phone, and I feel for it without opening my eyes. When I locate it at the end of the bed I answer with a drowsy and hoarse,<p>

"Hello?"

"Layla, where the hell are you?"

My father's drunken question forces my eyes open. Its still dark in the room and the clock reads 4:32am. 'Shit.' I think to myself. 'Did I fall asleep here?' I obviously must have.

"Um, Im at Louis'." I say, already grabbing my purse.

"Get your ass home now. I swear to god your never here." Hi words are slurred but angry.

"Neither are you!" I regret this immediately.

"Oh, you wanna get smart now, huh? Okay. You've got it comin' now little smartass." He says.

"No, Dad im sorry!" But it's too little, too late. His line has disconnected.

I feel the familiar heat of tears as they begin to form, but I force them back when I hear footsteps in the hallway. My best friend of six years, Louis Tomlinson, stands in the doorway. Recently, he and four other boys placed third on a show called The X-Factor, you may know them as One Direction. He yawns and stares at me for a while before saying,

"Whats going on?"

"My dad just called. I've gotta go." I tell him.

He gives me look I can't describe then nods. He knows the story. The one about how after my mother left 3 years ago, my dad turned to alcohol. How he's come home drunk nearly every night since. Louis knows about the divorce, the money problems, the drinking, and the gambling. He knows how I feel about my mother leaving me with him. I was only 14 when she left. Now 17, after three years of going through what she did, my thoughts about her have changed. However, there is one thing that Louis doesn't know about.

Louis walks me to my car in the crisp summer morning air. He hugs me and says goodbye as I close the car door. It takes exactly three tries to get the engine on my red '91 Chevy to crank. I wave to Louis and as I back out of his drive-way, he mouths 'Be careful.'. I nod trying to humor him because he can't know what's coming for me when I get home. But I do, and no amount of 'careful' can save me now.

I pull into to the carport of my home. My father's car is not present which means he walked home again. I draw in a deep breath and kill the engine. I try to close my door as quietly as possible, but it's no use. He busts through the door with a bottle still in hand. He comes around to the driver's side of my car, grabs my forearm, and drags me inside. His breath reeks of liquor as he mutters profanity in my ear. He slams the door behind us and leads me to the living room. When he releases the death grip on my arm I begin to feel the blood flow again. He glares at me for a second before ripping the keys out of my hand and chunking them at the wall, shattering a picture of my four-year-old self. I wince as the shards hit the floor. He takes my face in his right hand and points at me with his left. I close my eyes, knowing what's coming. He releases my face and slaps me telling me to watch. He circles the room tearing every picture frame from the wall and throwing it to the floor, sending shards of glass flying. When one clips my ankle, I let out a short groan. He turns to face me. He advances on me slowly. Then he says the first words since my arrival,

"Got anything to say, sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry." I whine, trying to contain the tears.

Then, with one swift yet powerful swing, he slaps me. So hard I stumble. The tears stream down my stinging face. He's smiling at me. When I give him a questioning look, he shakes his head and says the thing he knows will hurt me more than any blow he could inflict.

"You look just like your mother did the day she left." His grin remains and the sparks of anger in me explode into a wildfire in midsummer. But the fire won't spread far. The most daring thing I can conger up is,

"You make me sick." I grimace through the tears even though I know that saying anything to him adds gasoline to his fire. He stomps to one of the piles of glass, searches for the most lethal shard he can find, and throws it at my head. I try to dodge it but he manages to hit the left side of my collarbone. He keeps whispering something to himself that I can't quite make out. He looks up and sees me staring at him. He crosses to me and swings again. This time with a fist. He has incredible aim for a drunk and hits my left eye hard.

"Get out of here!" he screams.

I do as told and run up the stairs to my room, lock the door behind me and look in my mirror. 'How am I going to cover this up?'

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><p>Thank you for reading! Rate and review! It takes 30 seconds.<p>

Love, Kaylyn.


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